jessikah

Monday, November 20, 2006

No Escape Surfacing up at the Rockefeller Center subway stop on the way to work, the frickin Rembrandts are just finishing that frickin Friends theme. My surfacing is usually well-timed: it's always 8:56 or something, rushing to work, and there's all these tourists with signs -- WE LOVE KATIE/MATT/THE FAT WEATHERMAN -- all of whom become a big TodayGamut to run around.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Rudyard, I never knew ye Look, something I really don't understand is how come we are allowed to have a nuclear weapons program but nobody else is. Is it because we are somehow morally superior to the rest of the world, and so because we think we are blessed by Jesus it's okay for us to have the capability of incinerating small, poor countries, and they can't do it back? Even David was allowed a slingshot, people.
Now as it stands, we have bombed the CRAP out of Afghanistan and didn't even find Osama (taking care to leave the poppies, perchance?); we have crapped all over Iraq and our lame-ass attempts at "peacekeeping" mean super crazy unrest and a thousand of just our soldiers dead, not to mention that really embarrassing incidence of our torturing prisoners; and my cursory glance at today's Google news headlines tells me that at the same time that all talk of foreign policy RE: Iran and North Korea (the other axes in the Evil Triangle!) is being avoided by Rudyard Kipling G.W. Bush, we want to toughen our stance on Iran's nuclear programs.
Um, what? Seriously, what the hell? Listen so I'm not unpatriotic and I was pissed off too when the towers fell, but WHAT THE HELL? Are we out of our freaking MINDS?
And what is the deal with wanting to go into Sudan? Coincidence that they've got a bunch of oil? I think not. This is like, really awful and embarrassing, our foreign politics and how blatantly jerkface it is.
Sorry, this is why I don't write about politics, because I am not a pundit and I am not particularly articulate about things. I just feel bad that we are stomping around like Veruca Salt. I find it shameful and perhaps we should go back to what we do best, which is being the land of the free and home of the brave, taking in the tired and poor. There is nothing brave about picking on someone smaller than you, nothing brave about bombing the hell out of the tired and poor of other nations.
Come on, America. Let's get it together already.
I went to San Diego this weekend with mi novio, we just walked around the downtown and drank banana-flavored Hefeweizen and peeked in some shops. On Friday, we went to the L.A. Greek Fest at Saint Sophia's on Normandie. I saw the mayor (of Los Angeles) at the Greek thing and took a bunch of pictures, some of which came out okay.
I got a skirt this weekend, it's officially the shortest one I own as it goes about an inch above the knee. Amish, I know. I saw a woman in her 40s wearing a really short skirt today on campus and wonder if maybe I should hop on that bandwagon now, before the skin around my knees starts to sag. Something to think about when I'm not wondering if we're going to blow up the world.

Monday, September 11, 2006

"What!! What Do You Want?!" I've been very busy lately. First, there was the term test. Second, we had to cram and complete our project assignments in a week. Then, I was offered a part-time job so cushy I embraced it without a thought. Now, after weeks of anticipation, it's Chinese New Year and I'm HUNGRY!Speaking of hunger, I wonder if there's a reunion dinner for the New Year.
Yesterday while at work, I decided to take a 10 minute break from the repetitive work I'd been doing non-stop for 4 hours. I turned off the computer monitor, pulled out a book, kicked back, relaxed, and started to read.No sooner had I finished reading the third page than I got "caught".A senior colleague (the one who offered me the job) walked straight into my cubicle, wagged her pointer at me and said "No reading on the job, girl! I don't want the rest of the office thinking you're shirking your responsibility you know!""Alright", says I, and shoved the book back into my bag.A few minutes later, the colleague reappeared and told me that if I wanted to do personal stuff i.e. reading, I could go downstairs and sit at the empty benches in front of the cafes."Just not in the office or you'll be penalised!"
I was starting to get a little bit hot under the collar (why? This will be discussed in Part II!), so I decided to take a lunch break. It didn't happen until recently that I've begun turning to food when I'm pissed.
I headed to the foodcourt just opposite and browsed the stalls, looking for (just right and not so sinful) comfort food. How was I to know that in the process of seeking elusive comfort, I would end up having to go twice as far?
I stopped in front of a stall hawking local appetizers and paused to peruse its menu.Out of the blue, a voice rudely demanded "WHAT!! What do you want!!"I shifted my gaze to a small, hunchbacked old Malay woman, apparently the tender of the stall.She glared at me.I stared at her, startled.I looked around to see if there were any other customers behind me. Nope.All I saw were a few curious diners sitting nearby looking over out of curiosity.The old hag's voice was that loud.What in bloody tarnation was she trying to do?! Drive away potential customers when she didn't have that many to begin with?!
Almost instinctively, mechanically, I shot back (albeit in a much softer tone than what she started with, and not really what I'd consider rude per se) "Can't you wait?!"The old hag shut up.I have no idea why she had to antagonize someone meaning no harm.
I had an overwhelming desire to leave the stall and its unworthy tender and spend my dosh at another but I'd spotted something I was craving for.I placed my order for a roll of popiah and the old hag started preparing it.Throughout the preparation, she would glare at me for a few seconds.Add peanuts. Glare. Back to work. Add the egg. Glare. Back to work. Add the steaming hot vegetables. Glare. Back to work. And so on.It was all rather unsettling and I admit it. I wanted to make a humungous crater in her face, because she was rude to me in the first place.
When the popiah was done, she put it on a plate and to my surprise, beckoned a man -- who had only a minute ago placed his order and queued up behind me -- to collect it!After a while, I realised the man was a regular customer.But what the fuck?! That's wrong!
My mood was getting worse. I didn't want to cause a commotion with someone who couldn't understand much English and besides, I figured that I should attempt some "forgiving and forgetting", instead of being angry all the time. So I waited, while the old hag proceeded to make my popiah.
She banged the plate with the popiah on it on the counter for me to collect when she was done. I paid her and found a quiet spot to eat. In my embittered mental state, I had forgot to tell her not to put chilli in it.The chilli was gross. It stung my throat really bad and was very bitter.However, my anger got the better of me and I hardly felt a thing as I shoved huge chunks of popiah into my mouth, simultaneously weeping (the chilli made me weep).
I noticed one thing though. The last time I ate a popiah from the same stall, it was succulent, being filled with sweet sauce. This time, the old hag was superbly stingy with the sauce. And the chilli (fortunately).
Finishing the popiah, I made my way to 7-11 with a very red nose and tears streaming down my face (the chilli at work) to buy some chips. I figured I'd feel better with it. I loooooove Kettle Chips. I'd wanted to sneakily scoff the chips in the office but chickened out. I didn't want to be penalised. After all, a little more dosh wouldn't hurt.
Of course, after an hour or so, I calmed down as the perfectionist in me took over (I was doing admin).
At home, after giving the day some thought, I decided not to pronounce it a bad day because it was all a matter of perception (of the incidents) and how I decided to react to things (very defensively), and past experiences which led to my present state of defensiveness and anger. Hmm...